In Session
by PrsctrTails
Summary: This is set in my Marshall&Gavin,LLP universe. For more details, see the description at the beginning of the fic. Yes, there is real life legalese, but I promise to keep it simple.
1. Chapter 1

[So, this is to take place in the same continuity and universe as Marshall&Gavin, LLP, just earlier. In case anyone didn't know, I actually am a trial lawyer, and if you have any questions about that, feel free to PM me. Haha. While I find the PW/AJ Justice system fascinating, I'm still a bit partial to the system I make my living in. So, this is PW/AJ meets the American justice system, slightly simplified. Read&Review!]

Rolling his head back, Kristoph tried to slow his thought. They were torn between whether or not he was dressed too fancily, almost like some sort of Wall Street lawyer and less like a fairly green Public Defender, and on how damaging his competition was being. Accent aside, the Deputy District Attorney at the opposite table could almost be considered pesky; his perfectly timed and often wickedly sharp objections were becoming enough to almost unsettle him. For whatever reason, he couldn't help but admire the DDA. His suit, a dark brown two-piece affair, was very well tailored, also lending to him the image of a corporate executive. In the back of his stressed out mind, Kristoph slightly regretted not taking that job at ExxonMobil. From his spot on one of the few padded benches in the Courthouse, he closed his eyes as he leaned his head back, hoping for some manner of respite.

"Last chance for a deal." That twangy, guitar string accent bounced into his ear.

"Still no." Kristoph said, not opening his eyes. He heard and felt the prosecutor sit down next to him.

"We haven't been rightly introduced. Neil Marshall, Deputy District Attorney." He said, offering a hand.

"Kristoph Gavin, Office of the Public Defender." The blonde replied, extending his own hand for a very cordial handshake. "And sorry, no deal."

"Ah, what a shame." Neil said. "Don't take my eventual win personally."

"Tell me, is it standard procedure for members of the DA's office to guarantee a win?" Kristoph asked.

"Only when half of the witnesses are cops." Neil corrected.

"We'll see." Kristoph almost slyly countered. "Where's your ring from?"

"The University of Virginia." Neil said, holding up the large, golden ring to the light. "Undergrad and law school. You?"

"UCLA for both." Kristoph said.

"Ah." Neil nodded. "I'll have to bring back stories about facing the three-piece suit wearing prodigy."

"I like vested suits." Kristoph merely laughed.

"Oh, I could tell." The prosecutor nodded. "Grey is a good color. The jury finds it neutral, non-threatening. Same goes for the tie, dark blue, perfect double Windsor knot. Very professional, almost expected"

"Same with yours. Slightly expensive, but normal looking. Easily offendable jurors won't be put off by it. And I take it you favor red power ties." Kristoph noted.

"I see you read the same stuff I do." Neil chuckled.

"Anything for the advantage." Kristoph said, glancing at his watch. "We're back in session in five minutes."

"Good luck with my witnesses." The prosecutor said.

"Please, luck is for the corporate law people." The public defender said, smirking. "Keep in mind the Judge is a former PD."

Before the conversation could continue, the two noticed people were again filing into the modest Courtroom. The two trained their eyes as they rose, adjusting their ties and suit jackets. Nothing was said as they picked up their briefcases and strode back inside. Each was working the case as a solo chair; a flux of trials had stretched both the Office of the Public Defender and the District Attorney thin. Their respective tables weren't that large so hopefully the jury didn't notice both sides were technically undermanned. Each sat quietly.

"All rise." Said the Bailiff, Mike Meekins, a fellow both defense attorney and prosecutor noted was very enthusiastic. "Court is again in session; The Honorable Douglas Swallows presiding. Give your attention and you will be heard."

Emerging from a small door behind the bench, the youthful, he was in fact the youngest sitting Judge in Los Angeles County, took his seat and banged his gavel twice. "Be seated." He said. "Please bring the defendant back in."

Meekins nodded, disappeared behind another small door behind. At this, Kristoph felt himself twitch. Of all the clients he pulled, it was the oddly awkward Glen Elg, a self employed hacker who had, for some reason or another attempted to kidnap his girlfriend, one Alita Tiala. As a defendant, he wasn't very sympathetic. He did not appear to appreciate the gravity of his situation. Kristoph had spent the bulk of the trial so far trying to shield his idiot client from the prying eyes of what he deemed a hostile jury.

"If the District Attorney has no more questions?" Judge Swallows began.

"Nothing further, Your Honor." Neil rose and said.

"Very well. Mr. Gavin, you may begin your cross-examination. I remind the witness he is still under oath." The Judge said.

From the witness box, Dr. Turner Grey nodded, looking almost fed up. From the defense table, Kristoph rose and slowly walked in front of the table. He adjusted his glasses, a trait someone had told him looked good.

"Dr. Grey, how long have you worn glasses?" The blonde asked. From his table, Neil shot up like a rocket.

"Objection." He drawled. "Relevance?"

"Your Honor, this is an eye-witness, the defense merely seeks to make sure all the facts are one the record." Kristoph explained.

"Overruled." Judge Swallows said.

"Thank you, Your Honor. Now, Dr. Grey, how long have you worn glasses?"

"Since High School." The Doctor answered.

"Is your vision stable?" Kristoph asked.

"No." Dr. Grey answered. "It's slowly, very slowly, getting slightly worse. Nothing horrific, just means new glasses every few years."

At the prosecution table, Neil sank slightly in his chair. While looking like a good witness, Dr. Grey had a nasty habit of saying too much. Well, he had to try something before the blonde prodigy ran with it.

"Objection, move to strike." Neil said, rising from his chair. "Dr. Grey, while well meaning, overstepped the bounds of the question. I just want to make sure the jury doesn't get needlessly befuddled."

"Overruled, Mr. Marshall." Judge Swallows almost sighed.

"Now, Dr. Grey, when was your last optical exam?" Kristoph asked, plucking a legal pad and pen off the table behind him.

"Ten or so months ago." He answered, suddenly not liking the defense attorney too much.

"So, you're due for a checkup, as it were?" Kristoph inquired.

"Yes, I suppose so." Dr. Grey nodded, tersely.

"You told Deputy District Attorney Marshall earlier that you witnessed this incident, but you admitted to the fact it all happened, as you said, very quickly." The blonde said.

"Objection." Neil rose again, this time smiling unabashedly. "Did I miss the question in there?"

"Mr. Gavin, the Deputy District Attorney has a point. Let's try asking questions of the witnesses." The Judge said. Kristoph, casting a half glance at the prosecutor at the other table, returned the smirk. Annoying or not, this Neil Marshall fellow was an expert at not letting Kristoph establish any form of momentum. He carried himself and was concise enough to avoid looking like an obstructionist. That, and the six women on the jury couldn't keep their eyes off of him.

"Sir, how was Ms. Tiala behaving at the time of the alleged incident?" Kristoph asked.

"She was resisting." The Doctor answered.

"Verbally or physically?" The defense attorney pressed.

"Both." Was the answer.

"Right, so you saw her physically resisting, but you were still able to identify my client?" Kristoph asked again, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes." Dr. Grey nodded.

"Was the attempted abductor also struggling?" Kristoph posed.

"Yes."

"How so?"

"He was trying to avoid getting hit. Honestly, he looked like he was pretty afraid of her." Dr. Grey grinned. From his seat, Neil enjoyed finally catching this slight break. The aloof defendant being made to sound afraid of a fairly small young woman was a solid point for him.

"So, he was trying to avoid being struck?" Kristoph asked.

"Yes."

"Does this mean he was moving his face?" The blonde leaned forward.

A pause set in, with Kristoph, Neil, Judge Swallows and five members of the jury understanding what was being asked.

"Well, somewhat." Dr. Grey answered, shifting in his chair.

"In a frenzy of activity, with two people moving, and the situation occurring, as you said, quickly, you saw my clients face?" Kristoph said, voice firmer than in previous questions.

"I believe so." Dr. Grey said, now glowering at the young lawyer.

Kristoph issued a thin smirked as he turned his head to the jury, feeling that between establishing the eyesight issue and the drawing out the fact that the incident in question happened fast helped his case greatly. "No further questions."

"Re-direct?" Neil said, standing before Kristoph had even gotten back to his chair. Judge Swallows nodded. "Dr. Grey, what is your medical specialty?"

"Objection!" Kristoph boomed, taking to his feet as soon as he had sat back down. "It's already been established the witness is a surgeon."

"I just want specifics." Neil said, voice teasing.

"It goes both ways, Mr. Gavin. Your objection is overruled." The Judge ruled.

"Reconstructive surgery." The Doctor proudly answered.

"So, you work with the human face?" Neil expanded.

"Exclusively." Dr. Grey nodded.

"Nothing further for this witness, reserve the right to re-call Dr. Grey." Neil said, regaining a slight edge. From his chair, Kristoph had a smirk when he should have had at least a frown. Perhaps he was still on a slight high from his slim victory, or, maybe it was because the District Attorney's Office had finally produced someone who was going to be a good challenge.


	2. On Cross

"The People call Detective Angel Starr." Neil said, standing tall behind the prosecution table. Much to his dismay, the gallery was empty except for, quite literally, four people. The doors to the Courthouse were opened as Detective Starr gracefully slid into the Courtroom, her high heels and dress making her look more like an actress making a red carpet debut than testifying at a completely forgettable felony case. As she click-clacked her way passed the short rows in the gallery, both Kristoph and Neil got the feeling the four spectators were here for her.

Her movements, even raising her right hand to be sworn in under oath by Judge Swallows, were lithe and gracefully. Kristoph mentally groaned at the fact the men on the jury showed no signs of blinking. From the prosecution table, Neil was openly gleeful. He could scarcely keep himself from laughing as he stood up and made his way up to the witness box.

"If it please the Court, will you please give the Court a bit of background information?" Neil asked. Kristoph rolled his eyes.

"Of course." Detective Starr said, smiling sweetly. "I've been a Detective for five years, before that I walked a beat in Century City for an additional five years. Not the scariest place, but it was an experience."

"Could you be so kind as to tell us what you were doing at the time of the kidnapping?" The prosecutor asked.

"I was at the Westfield Mall in Century City, off duty of course." She joked. "I was enjoying a rather nice day of shoe shopping when, well the defendant sort of ruined it."

"You mean Mr. Elg?" Neil asked.

"Objection, Your Honor. Leading the witness." Kristoph said, still trying to figure out how not to anger the jury while still not being mean to the pretty lady in the witness box.

"Sustained." Judge Swallows said. "Try again, Mr. Marshall."

"Right. Detective Starr, what ruined your day of shoe shopping?" Neil asked.

"Someone was clearly attempting to abduct someone." Starr said.

"Is this someone currently in the Courtroom?" Neil inquired.

"Yes." Starr nodded. "It's him." She said, pointing directly and rather harshly at the defendant.

"You seem very certain." Neil said. "What makes you so?"

"I saw the defendant following the victim around. It wasn't for very long, but it was noticeable. To me, at least." She explained.

"Explain noticeable." Neil asked, doing his best at playing dumb.

"He wasn't very graceful." She smirked. "He was the only man in a ladies shoe store."

This caused several snickers in the Courtroom. Judge Swallows swiftly rapped his gavel. "Quiet in _my_ Courtroom." What laughter there was quickly subsided.

At the defense table, the accused leaned over to this appointed lawyer. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"Unless there was another stalker in that women's shoe store, I suggest you let me do the thinking." Kristoph almost hissed. He turned his attention back to the Court proceedings with a slight grimace.

"Detective Starr, did Ms. Tiala struggle when Mr. Elg attempted to kidnap her?" Neil asked.

"Yes, she actually seemed stronger than he was." The Detective said. Neil was barely able to suppress another laugh.

"What did the defendant's state of mind appear to be?" Neil posed.

"He appeared very angry. His teeth were clinched, he was clearly straining." Starr said.

"Straining?" Neil repeated as a question.

"Yes, his movements were forceful, yet very stilted. He almost looked wooden."

"Describe for the Court your viewing angle, Detective Starr." Neil kindly asked.

"I was looking at high heels, Ms. Tiala was browsing the sandals. She was to my side. When Mr. Elg appeared, I was able to view the entire incident from a side angle." The Detective expertly explained.

"If this was from the side, how could you see anyone's face?" Neil asked, going for a perfect set-up.

"Both of them were thrashing about, their heads were going every which way. They both looked like they were out of _The Exorcist_. Both of their faces came into my view numerous times."

"No further questions." Neil said, smiling at the witness.

"Mr. Gavin, your cross examination?" The Judge asked, shifting his focus to the defense.

"…No questions of this witness, Your Honor." Kristoph said, barely rising out of his chair. There was nothing he hated more than leaving a battlefield, no matter how small, without firing a shot. Clearly the UVA grad at the other table had put a lot more effort and preparation into this than Kristoph had initially thought.

"The witness is excused." Judge Swallows said, adjusting his red and black paisley tie. On a low-level, this trial functioned as a working vacation. His docket was full of drug related cases, which were the highest forms of human tragedy. This, on the opposite, was a case were no one was dead and both attorneys were highly competent. Besides the prosecution's tactics of tossing up the occasional possibly fruitless objection to rattle the young public defender, this was a very pleasant escape. "Mr. Marshall, your next witness, if you please."

"Yes, Your Honor." Neil stood, nodding. "The People call Officer Dustin Prince."

The doors again opened and young Officer Prince stepped through. Looking up from the defense table, Kristoph adjusted his glasses and thought for a second that a recruiting poster for the police department and gained self-awareness and leapt forth to the realm of the living. Luckily, he wasn't as hyperattractive as Detective Starr, so he might be allowed to actually ask tough questions without offending the always-shifting sensibilities of the jury.

After being properly sworn in, Officer Prince took the stand with posture resembling an upper case "L". Quickly dispensing with set-up and background questions, Neil dove straight to the heart of the witness's purpose.

"You were assigned to patrol an area that included the Winfield Century City, correct?" Neil drawled.

"Yes, sir." Officer Prince nodded.

"Was there anything unusual that day?" The prosecutor asked, openly facetious.

"No, normal Saturday shopping day." The young policeman said. From his seat, Kristoph grabbed a pen and began dutifully taking notes.

"So, what drew you to the mall?" Neil asked.

"I got a call over the radio that there was a disturbance at the Winfield. I pulled up and saw a crowd gathering over by an entrance."

"Could you see what the crowd was looking at?"

"No, Sir." Officer Prince answered. They were bunched up and had cell phones out."

"And then?" Neil continued.

"I pulled in and parked to the side, as I exited the car the crowd dispersed."

"Dispersed?" Neil repeated, tone implying a question.

"Yes." Officer Prince nodded. "They all fell back, quickly at that."

"Could you discern why?" Neil asked, suddenly a little curious himself.

"Because someone, the defendant, had come bursting out of the mall. The crowd broke up pretty quickly."

"Did he look panicked?" Neil asked.

"Objection." Kristoph interjected. "The witness is asking to guess state of mind."

"Sustained." Judge Swallows answered.

"Officer Prince, what did the defendant's face look like?" Neil tried again.

"Objection!" Kristoph said again with slightly more force. "Asked and answered. Your Honor, quite literally, has just ruled on this."

"Your Honor, I merely asked what the defendant's face looked like. Not what he was thinking, just what his face looked like." Neil explained, clearly having thought this through.

"Sustained. The witness may answer; but carefully." Judge Swallows ordered.

"Exception." Kristoph replied, face stern. Judge Swallows arched an eyebrow.

"Noted and on the record." He answered. Already an expert at maintaining his poker face, Judge Swallows trained his eyes on the young police officer. Both prosecutor and defense attorney noticed the youthful Judge was not blinking. Sighing himself calm, Neil continued.

"When you saw Mr. Elg come running from the mall, how did his face look?"

"Panicked, tired, sweaty, he almost looked lost." The young policeman finally answered. At the defense table, Kristoph felt his eye twitch.

"Move to strike." He finally blurted out.

"Grounds?" Judge Swallows asked.

"Because of this assumption, any question I eventually ask during cross examination would go beyond the scope of cross." The blonde said, not entirely believing his own reasoning.

"My Chambers, both of you." The Judge said. "The Court will stand in recess." With that, Swallows banged his gavel, stood and made quickly for his office and Chambers behind the Courtroom. He had already unzipped his robes when the prosecutor and defense attorney entered. "Mr. Marshall, I do believe the defense has a point."

"Uhm, Your Honor, you made the ruling." Neil sheepishly answered. This did not amuse the Judge, who was already second-guessing his own ruling. "What's more, it's already in the record, the jury has heard the testimony."

"The Prosecution makes a point, Mr. Gavin." Said the Judge; turning his attention to the public defender he had known briefly when he was in the Public Defender's Office.

"That may be, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm going to be completely hamstrung on cross." Kristoph asserted, removing his glasses to rub his forehead.

"Mr. Marshall, since I flatly did you a favor with that ruling, would you be willing to hold yourself and some of your objections in abeyance when Mr. Gavin cross-examines Officer Prince?" The Judge asked, slightly unsure of the juridical grounds he was on. Neil pulled his glance from the unsmiling Judge to the unsmiling Public Defender.

"Yes." Came the Deputy District Attorney's answer. "Just don't tell my boss."

"Wonderful." Said Judge Swallows. "Let's get back to the wheels of Justice." He said, donning his black robe. He left the room in a slight huff, leaving Neil and Kristoph standing. Neil felt a little awkward, considering he hadn't planned for Officer Prince's testimony being that dramatic or complicated.

"Well," Kristoph began. "One thing is certain."

"What?" Neil asked.

"You're very good." Kristoph said.

"Thanks." Neil half blushed.

"You're welcome." The blonde said, turning to leave. "But don't worry, I'm better."


	3. Statements Of Interest

[If anyone has any ideas for crimes/use of characters and would like to see them in fic form, shoot me a PM or write me a glowing review. I've seen enough craziness in my legal career to make anything look possible.]

"Officer Prince, after you arrived on the scene and the crowd dispersed, what happened next?" Neil asked, eyes drifting from the always-unsmiling Judge Swallow to the jury.

"The crowd had dispersed because the defendant, Mr. Elg, had come running out of the mall, I assume he was already being chases."

"Objection, stating facts not in evidence." Kristoph said.

"Sustained, jury will disregard the last part of officer's statement." Judge Swallow said.

"So, you saw the defendant come running from the mall?" Neil asked.

"Yes, sir." Officer Prince nodded. "Quite fast"

"Was he holding anything?"

"Just his iPhone."

"Nothing else?" Neil retried.

"No, sir."

"When you gave chase, did you identify yourself as a police officer?"

"Of course." Officer Prince nodded, somewhat vigorously. "Not to mention I was in uniform and I had stepped out of my patrol car."

"When you identified yourself, did the defendant stop?" Neil asked.

"No, I was forced to give chase." The officer responded, glancing for a second at the defendant, not enjoying the memory of the chase."

"Did Mr. Elg resist when you finally apprehended him?"

"No, not really." Officer Prince answered, taking Neil by surprise.

"Nothing further at this time, Your Honor." Neil nodded towards the bench.

From the defense table, Kristoph's eyes furiously scanned over his notes. The silence in his Courtroom quickly grew to awkward. The blonde finally snapped back to professionalism.

"Officer Prince, you said it was a normal Saturday shopping day, can you elaborate on that?" Kristoph asked.

"Saturday in November." Prince answered. "USC, UCLA and Loyola students apparently had some free time. I also saw plenty of sale signs."

"So, there were plenty of people all around?" Kristoph asked.

"Yes."

"This crowd you mentioned, was it large?"

"Yes."

"How large?" The young Public Defender asked, plucking a file off the table.

"Between twenty-five and thirty people." Officer Prince responded.

"And this crowd broke up, twenty-five to thirty people, were going in all directions?" Kristoph asked, casually pulling a piece of glossy paper off the table.

"Yes."

"So, it looked like this?" Kristoph said, holding up the picture to the jury. "This is from a surveillance camera outside, previously entered as People's exhibit five."

Office Prince leaned forward, studying the picture as Kristoph casually placed before him. "Yes, it looked like that."

"Quite the chaotic scene, isn't it? And this is before the incident." Kristoph grinned.

"Objection." Neil said, firing off a broad-spectrum objection that Judge's disliked but allowed for the sake of keeping things running speedily. "Did I miss the question?"

"Officer Prince, would you describe the scene, pre-incident, as very busy?" Kristoph asked.

"Yes." Officer Prince said, slightly peeved.

"When you parked your patrol car, did you leave the light-bar running?"

"Yes."

"In your experiences as a police officer who works a patrol, when people see a parked police cruiser with its lights going, do people tend to flock towards it?" Kristoph asked, his question equal parts obtuse and to the point. Neil was ready, still focusing on his strategy of breaking the blonde's rhythm.

"Objection, relevance?" He drawled.

"The Defense simply wishes to establish what was going on."

"Overruled." Judge Swallow said, uneasy.

"Well, people do tend to gravitate to patrol cars." Officer Prince admitted.

"And you pulled up with thirty or so people already there, correct?"

"Correct."

Placing the photo down and grabbing another, Kristoph appeared to float as he moved about the space between the witness box and the defense table. From his chair, Deputy District Attorney Marshall could not help but note how the young blonde prodigy's well phrased, often stinging questions and extremely attractive attire made him seem like a far more experienced litigator. Rubbing his chin, Neil was already worried about where the public defender was going with his current line of questioning. Annoyingly enough, opposing counsel's questions were ever adapting, making Neil's job all the harder.

"Officer Prince, what does this picture, previously entered as People's exhibit six, illustrate?" Kristoph asked, face the very picture of comically curious.

"That would be me, I'm exiting the vehicle and the crowd has started to break apart."

"Shoppers going in any and all directions?" Kristoph pushed.

"Yes, sir."

"How many members of the fleeing mass appear to be male?"

"Counsels, approach the bench." Judge Swallow interjected. For a hair of a second, Kristoph and Neil traded inquisitive, sideways glances. Each obediently approached.

"Mr. Gavin, they taught me in law school that you don't get to ask such open-ended questions." The Judge said, leaning forward close to the two lawyers so he wouldn't have to whisper as much. "I'm only 32, so law school wasn't that far back."

"The witness can count, can't he?" Kristoph replied. "The picture was taken by a high-definition camera, so it's quite clear."

"Mr. Marshall?" The Judge asked, shifting his head and attention.

"No objections." Neil drawled.

"Step back." Judge Swallow nodded. Kristoph returned to his place in front of the defense table.

"Officer Prince, how many males do you see?" Kristoph asked. The young policeman picked up the picture and studied it thoughtfully.

"Thirteen." He replied.

"Correct." Kristoph said, smiling. "And they're all running in various directions?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, it was busy, there was a healthy number of people out and about. Then, when you pulled up, it drew more people, then someone burst out of a door, scattering the crowd. Officer, I'd have to imagine it was quite loud?" Kristoph asked, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes, sir. It was loud." Officer Prince answered in the affirmative.

"You testified that you called out and identified yourself, and that my client did not respond, correct?"

"Correct."

"Officer," Kristoph began, eyes shining behind his glasses. "It was loud and chaotic, and you're surprised my client didn't turn around?"

"I yelled, shouted." Officer Prince responded.

"There were thirty people alone crowded around that entrance. My client was supposed to hear one voice over thirty?"

"I was right behind him, and I chased him for two blocks, we got away from the crowd after the first block and a half." Officer Prince replied, slightly smug.

"At any point, did my client confess to anything?" Kristoph asked, locking his eyes on the young policeman.

"No."

"Nothing further." Kristoph said, returning to his chair.

"I feel this has been quite a bit of information for one day. It's nearly five and I feel the jury could use an early night. Are there any objections?" Judge Swallow asked.

"No, Your Honor." Kristoph said.

"None." Neil said.

"Very well. Court will stand in recess until nine tomorrow morning." Judge Swallow ordered, banging his gavel. He descended into his Chambers swiftly, leaving the rest of the Courtroom to file out. The bailiff, Meekins, led the aloof Mr. Elg back to his cell at the Courthouse, which was profoundly nicer than the accommodations at the County Jail.

As Kristoph arranged papers into his briefcase, he quickly caught whiff of the Deputy District Attorney's earned sense of arrogance.

"My office, half an hour." Neil said. Kristoph looked up, quickly arching an eyebrow at the prosecutor's friendly and simultaneously wolf-like grin.

"Sure." Kristoph nodded. Chalk it up to being a public defender, but he was inherently suspicious of most prosecutors. Of course, he was also skeptical of a few of his coworkers. Anyone that dedicated to representing court assigned clients were suspect in his fairly judgmental eyes. With a half chuckle/half sigh he stood from his chair and slowly strode from the Courtroom. Even with the gallery open and empty, it was a still a small, quaint bastion of Justice.

Due to getting out early, the hallways weren't as crowded with attorneys or alleged criminals. With the doors to most, if not all, of the Courtrooms and conference rooms were closed, Kristoph was left with the clicks of his dress shoes and his thoughts.

"Cheer up, Kitten. You'll get fun cases someday."

"So you tell me everyday, Mr. Armando." Kristoph replied, not actually knowing where the voice was coming from.

"Behind you." Diego said, sliding out from one of the Courtrooms. His black suit, red shirt and black tie caused him to look less like a lawyer and more like an especially well coifed hit man. The goatee, earrings and tresses of infinitely black hair made him look like a remarkably expensive male escort.

"Attempted abduction is amusing enough." Kristoph said, never stopping his stride.

"If you say so. Again, join my firm and you'll be a star." Diego said, grinning that prize-winning grin of his. "You winning?"

"Tie."

"Who's at the other table?" The higher profile defense attorney asked.

"Neil Marshall. First time facing him." Kristoph said.

"Neily? When did he get out of appeals?" Diego asked.

"Stop assuming I know the people you know." Kristoph laughed. "You know him?"

"Since junior high school." Diego said. "He's a slightly older version of you. Didn't burn through school nearly as fast, but he's never made anything lower than an A- in his life."

"Impressive." The blonde nodded. "He worked in the appellate division?"

"Yeah, for his first year and a half. Quick on his feet, but I'm guessing you noticed that." Diego smirked again.

"Oh, yes." Kristoph sighed, head still dizzy and busy from the prosecutors repeated interjections.

"He clawed his way out of appeals, now he's actually trying cases." The taller, darker attorney quipped. He looked down at his watch and let out a quick sigh. "Great, I get to go up to San Francisco. Who knew weirdo's who owned restaurants made for spree killers?"

"I look forward to seeing you on the news." Kristoph said.

"There, or in your dreams and fantasies." Diego retorted, never missing a chance to good-naturedly mess with the young blonde. With a sly wink, the mysterious Mr. Armando disappeared behind a door and down a staircase.

Checking his own watch, Kristoph reasoned it would take a healthy amount of time to located Mr. Marshall's office. Deciding to kill time, Kristoph settled on finding the elevator currently farthest from him. He found it after making three or four laps of the same floor. Flexing his brain, he studied the map/legend beside the rows upon rows of pressable buttons. Upon further inspection, he finally located the correct button. The ride up in the large, silver booth was slow, a slight grating noise coming from the massive metal contraptions that made movement. Of course, it was the same way for the building that housed the Office of the Public Defender, but everything wasn't as new and the structure didn't smell like guilt.

Kristoph often had a hard time shaking off Diego's job offers. Mr. Armando could represent a common drug dealer and turn the case into primetime news. He thrived under the crush of the camera; Kristoph was made nervous by traffic cameras. Something about graduating from law school at age 21 didn't lend itself to particularly well-developed social skills, hence his current roll as a public defender. The reflection of himself in the elevator made him blink. Sure it was the purest form of self-assessment, but it was still annoying.

Finally, the elevator reached its destination, which meant he was either very high up or the elevator was dangerously slow.

The sliding doors revealed a largely quiet floor. Kristoph reasoned most of the other prosecutors where in court or on assignment. The Los Angeles District Attorney did have quite a few branches, due largely to the vastness of LA County. Owing to his attire, hopefully what prosecutors who where about might mistake him for a wayward corporate or constitutional law centric litigator.

His eyes scanned the floor until they located a door marked "N. Marshall." Approaching, he was still not entirely sure of the Deputy District Attorney Marshall's intent, the blonde casually knocked on the door.

"Yeah?" Came the half-loud drawl from behind the door.

"It's Mr. Gavin. Opposing counsel in the Elg case."

"Right! Come in!" Neil answered, voice entirely too happy sounding. Kristoph arched an eyebrow slightly as he entered.

"You requested a meeting?"

"Ah, nothin' that formal." Neil said. Gone was the nice suit, hanging neatly in the corner of the office. Replacing it was a pair of fairly worn out, tight-ish fitting jeans and a faded Yale Blue t-shirt with the white letters SMU printed on the front.

"Yes, I can see this isn't too formal." Kristoph said, studying the suddenly casual prosecutor, who suddenly had even more of an accent.

"Have to put on a nice image for Judge Swallow. Those Stanford guys are a little tightly wound. And wasn't he your boss?" Neil asked, leaning slightly in his high-backed leather chair.

"I don't really know." Kristoph answered. "My office has quite a few figureheads."

Who's the one in charge? Fey-somethin'?"

"Mia Fey." Kristoph partly corrected.

"That's right. Sharp woman. Gave me trouble over an appeal over a case when I was workin' over in that division. Actually made me work." The prosecutor said, running a hand through his hair, which was now free of its hair product and fell about like a wavy mane. Even out a suit, Neil came off as intellectually fierce.

"And what does this trial warrant?" Kristoph asked, taking a seat.

"My staying awake."

"Humble." Kristoph countered.

"I try." Neil smirked. "So, why be a PD?"

"Beg pardon?" Kristoph asked.

"Not meant as an insult, just curious." The prosecutor explained. "You don't seem the true type. You look, talk and act like you belong at O'Melveny & Myers or Gibson, Dunn & Crutcher."

"True type?" Kristoph repeated, a bit curious.

"Like Ms. Fey. The type that honestly believes in a lofty sense of the dogged pursuit of Justice and the clients actually being innocent." Neil said, drawl giving way to a clearly sharp legal mind.

"I'm not foolish enough to believe that my clients tell the truth all that often." Kristoph replied, voice somewhat tight. Was the tan fellow across the desk a Deputy District Attorney or a very folksy psychiatrist? "The role serves as decent, mediocre paying way to pass the time."

"Until when?" Neil asked, catching on quickly.

"Until the Office of Legal Counsel has a job opening." The blonde said, face neutral, but eyes betraying his lust for his Washington DC dream.

"Oh-ho, the President's Law Firm?" Neil said. "I hear those guys and girls are smart over at the Department of Justice. You aimin' for the AAG job?"

"Assistant Attorney General?" Kristoph almost laughed. "No, that's a political appointment. That takes a President."

"Well, I'd be happy to do it when I'm in the White House." Neil said. Kristoph thought it was a joke until he studied the young DDA's face and the University of Virginia law degree on the wall and realized that 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue probably wasn't an impossible dream. "So, you'd take an attorney job doing the research and writin'?"

"It's the mini-Supreme Court." Kristoph said, his mood and facial muscles, finally relaxing. "They decide the legality of policy, Executive Orders, everything. And their rulings are binding."

"Some power, huh?" Neil chuckled.

"Yes." Kristoph agreed. "Besides being Chief Executive, do you have any other goals? I can't imagine handling crimes involving people like Mr. Elg is an end-goal."

"No, it's not." Neil laughed. "This whole place is an audition piece for the same basic place you want to work."

"You want to go DOJ?" The public defender asked, intrigued. He was always pleased to meet someone who had lefty career goals. He felt it showed a sense of upward thinking.

"Criminal Division, Capital Case Unit." The prosecutor drawled.

"That's pretty tough work." Kristoph said.

"All the more fun." Neil reasoned. "Everyone loves a good challenge, right?"

"Since when is the Death Penalty fun?"

"Helps if you're from Texas." Neil said. "You're European, so I don't expect you to get it."

"How did you know?" Kristoph asked, a little impressed.

"I like to learn about all my opponents." Neil said. "Passes the time during pre-trial paperwork. Though, it wasn't hard to learn about someone who graduates from law school at age twenty-one. I did it at 24 and people thought that was too early."

"We should prefer to think of ourselves as overachievers." Kristoph reasoned.

"Makes sense." Neil smirked. "So, your take on the case so far?"

"Your calling Detective Starr was brilliant."

"Wasn't it?" Neil laughed, his smile doing his bragging for him. "I think every male member of that jury is still thinkin' about her."

"Along with the fact that Dr. Turner has questionable vision and Officer Prince magically picked my client out of a thirty person fleeing mob. Very impressive."

"You kiddin'? He looks like a mannequin with a badge and a gun. Beat that."

"My client hasn't confessed to anything at any point, including and up to this trial."

"You're not thinkin' of puttin' him on the stand, are you?" Neil asked, slightly incredulous.

"Of course." Kristoph beamed.

"Dare I ask why?"

"Because he can say enough to force you to put Ms. Tiala back on the stand for re-direct." Kristoph explained, feeling very professional.

"You don't know what she's going to say on direct." Neil responded. "Don't chance that for a trial like this."

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a zealous advocate if I didn't." Kristoph asserted, shrugging.

"You're either brilliant or deranged. I'll go 60/40."

"Thank you."

"Any time."

"So," Neil said, leaning back in his chair and propping his bare feet up on his desk. Kristoph, while slightly shocked, was at least happy the Deputy District Attorney had exceptionally clean feet. "You eaten yet?"

"Between my salary, my rent and what I spend on suits and accessories, eating is fast becoming a luxury."

"If you don't report me to the Ethics Committee in Sacramento, I know a great burger place in Venice Beach." Neil offered. "Think of it as an adventurous dinner with the enemy."

"As long as you're paying." Kristoph said.

"I can do that." Neil said, standing from his chair and putting his clean feet into a pair of flip-flops that looked like they had been found on a beach. "Follow me." He said, smiling.


	4. In Recess

"Oh, what Fresh Hell is this?" Judge Swallow asked as he entered the Judge's lounge located on the higher floors of the Courthouse. It was an elaborate, wooden and fancy carpeted room. High ceilings were the standard and portraits of former Judges of the Los Angeles Superior Court hung on the walls.

"What's the matter today, Douglas?" An older Judge asked, flipping through a copy of the _Los Angeles Times_.

"No doughnuts. I take offense."

"Sorry, a lack of doughnuts is not a contract related grievance." Judge Gregory Edgeworth quipped.

"It should be." The youngest Judge groused. "Can't our budget pay for Krispy Kreme?"

"Do keep in mind you will have to face re-election at some point. Good luck explaining doughnuts to cost-minded voters." Judge Edgeworth dryly noted.

"Do keep in mind it's very rare that an appointed Judge doesn't get reelected by the voters." Judge Swallow countered. "How's the Gramarye case coming along?"

"Fresh Hell." Judge Edgeworth snorted. "It's a toss up."

"Aren't they all?" Judge Swallow said.

A few floors down, two figures still fresh off a discussion over the competing angles of differing offices of the United States Department of Justice moved closer to a multi-tiered parking garage. Kristoph, the Constitutional law-loving public defender was trying to explain the fun of legal research to Neil, the death penalty favoring prosecutor.

"So, do you like it at the PD's Office?" Neil asked. Kristoph didn't answer immediately. His first answer was a slight shrug.

"It's a job." The blonde answered. "Good for trial experience."

"That's true." Neil nodded. "What's your record?"

"7 and 2."

"Damn. Impressive."

"I tend to only go with the non-criminal looking clients." Kristoph explained.

"How vain." Neil said.

"It's worked." The public defender justified simply. "My colleagues think a great deal less of me for being emotionally neutral."

"So, they're mad that you don't relate to your clients?" Neil asked.

"Yes, basically." The blonde nodded. "I guess I'm not one of those true believer types you mentioned."

"Good. Those types end up burnt out wrecks before they turn 40." Neil said, voice hinting at some experience.

"I don't intend to be there past age thirty." Kristoph stated.

"Good to have a timetable." Neil reasoned. "By my guess I need to have three or four Capital cases under my belt before I even apply for a DOJ job."

"Hey, the Criminal Division is very elite as well." Kristoph pointed out. "The Office of Legal Counsel has twenty-four lawyers total."

"Seems to me they might want someone with applicable trial experience." Neil pointed out.

"I also took plenty of ConLaw classes in law school." The blonde informed. "I imagine you as the type that did summer internships with the Commonwealth's Attorney in Richmond."

"Every summer." Neil bragged. "I was and am an expert at makin' coffee and staplin' papers."

"I spellchecked my professors law review articles." The blonde almost deadpanned.

"Ew. I never went for the Academia types." The prosecutor said. "Too stuffy."

"No objections." Kristoph said.

"My, my." Neil chuckled. "Was that a joke?"

"Perhaps." Kristoph said.

"Well, aren't you gonna ask why I work for the evil other side?" Neil asked.

"I assume you like winning." Kristoph shrugged.

"Hey, it could be that spacious office." Neil added, dripping sarcasm.

"Bite your tongue, Deputy District Attorney." Kristoph said. "I work in a cubicle with lawyers who rant about legalizing all manner of drugs."

"Damn stupid idea."

"Very." Kristoph agreed. "Worse considering I spent my first year in the property damage pool."

"…Graffiti?" Neil asked, holding back a laugh.

"Yes. Graffiti." Kristoph sighed, one of his eyes twitching. "Have you any clue how tedious that is in LA County?"

"I can't imagine." Neil said, still trying to poorly suppress a laugh. "Sounds pretty bad."

"It was. It took me five straight wins at trial to graduate to drug related felonies."

"What were your two losses?"

"Miles Edgeworth." Kristoph responded.

"Say no more." Neil said, whistling. "That kid is gonna be on the Supreme Court someday. Or Attorney General."

"He doesn't strike me a politician." Kristoph said.

"United State Attorney General." Neil added, lowering his eyebrows.

"I see." Kristoph nodded. Granted, he didn't work for the perfectionist prosecutor, but he still feared him. And those two losses on his record drove him mad. "Diego Armando told me you started off in appeals."

"_People v. Tigre" _Neil recalled. "Mugging of a rich real estate agent. Mr. Faraday got the conviction at trial, then District Attorney Skye dropped the appeal in my lap. Trainin' by fire."

"I take it you won." Kristoph inquired.

"I did." Neil nodded. "Haven't looked back since."

"I can say the same of graffiti." The blonde sighed. The two were, for a short time, out of things to talk about. Owing to their jobs and lack of seniority, each worked such long hours they barely had lives. "So, what's SMU?"

"Southern Methodist University." Neil proudly explained. "College in Dallas. It's where my big brother played Jake quarterback for the football team."

"Huh." Kristoph nodded, impressed.

"Yep. Don't worry, our sojourn to my car is nearly done." Neil drawled, face a playful smile that Kristoph thought had excess emotions behind it. "Ah, there she is." He said, pointing. Kristoph merely blinked.

The car clearly stuck out, if only for the gleaming, shining, near radiant coat of black paint. He got a step closer and noticed the hood bore what appeared a giant bird with wings pointed up and beak open. It looked like something that belonged in a museum. The car itself looked nothing like anything current.

"Mr. Marshall, I know nothing about cars, so just tell me now." The blonde blinked.

"This, Mr. Public Defender, is a 1977 Pontiac Trans Am. Jake and I restored her in high school."

"Her?" Kristoph repeated.

"Well, her secret name is Lana. Don't repeat that." Neil winked.

"I'm going to assume you're a good driver." The blonde said. "Where's the roof?"

"It's a T-top. The roof is removable. Just leaves a bar down the middle."

"Ah." Kristoph said, eyeing the glistening contraption. "Is it safe?"

"Course!" Neil said, face alive as he opened the trunk. "I'll take your briefcase."

"If you say so." Kristoph chuckled, handing off his briefcase. "I'm hungry, it doesn't matter."

"That's the spirit." Neil smirked as he forsook the door and hopped in the car over the door. Kristoph felt himself roll his eyes. Before he could make another comment but his ears were quickly filled with what he could only describe as a roar. He felt his neck almost snap back as the car's rear tires spun hard against the concrete and the car rocketed forward.

His voices, and thought, were completely gone as the sleek steed shot through the parking structure entrance and on to the street.

"Do you not know about speed limits?" Kristoph incredulously asked.

"I do, just don't see a need to pay attention to them." Neil explained, entirely carefree.

"Okay." Kristoph nervously nodded, hands gripping on whatever hard surface he could find. Maybe it was the seemingly breakneck speeds or the wind whipping through his hair, but the young and all together too bookish public defender felt a little less button-down and a little slightly fun.

He was about to speak again when tan prosecutor at the wheel took a turn entirely too fast causing the rear wheels to squeak loudly with approval. Turn signals, stoplights, nothing impeded the reckless, borderline suicidal, yet clearly superb driving skills of the Deputy District Attorney.

"I take it you've found a way to avoid speeding tickets." Kristoph said, finally able to calm himself slightly.

"I have my ways." Neil drawled, mouth in a half-smirk. "Relax, it's only about thirty minutes. That's not enough time for a serious car wreck."

"Reassuring." Kristoph said, eyeing his driver.

"Let me guess, you don't drive." Neil said, hoping to start a non-work related conversation.

"With my schooling? When was I supposed to find the time?" Kristoph almost laughed.

"Stupid assumption, forgive me." Neil chuckled.

"It's fine." Kristoph said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. "Isn't driving in Los Angeles dangerous anyway?"

"For some people, yes." The prosecutor nodded. "Besides, cops love to give tickets to PD's."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah." Neil laughed. "It's their version of huntin'." 

"How sane." Kristoph said, arching an eyebrow. "Isn't your older brother a detective?"

"Among other thangs." Neil said. "He falls back on police work when he gets bored."

"Interesting." Kristoph noted. "So, you asked my record, what's yours?"

"Countin' appeals?"

"Counting appeals."

"Ten and oh." Neil beamed.

"Very impressive." Kristoph replied, almost amused at the Deputy District Attorney's earned sense of pride. "Still happy I'm finally able to try cases. Bein' involved after that fact was a little dull."

"Why?" The blonde asked. "Less stress."

"In theory, not in practice." Neil pointed out. "The trial division people heap a ton of pressure."

"Huh." Kristoph said, feeling a trifle bit more educated. "Well, now you get to be the one giving pressure."

"Don't I know it?" Neil laughed, changing lanes rather abruptly. Kristoph noted the prosecutor at least had the good sense to use his turn signals. Pulling his eyes away the impossibly fast moving road to the towering glass and steel buildings. Neil, well aware of some traffic calamity, had detoured through the Financial District. Each building, though nestled close together, still shot into the sky with independent ferocity. "You know, might be fun to work in one of them." Neil drawled.

"BigLaw job?" Kristoph repeated.

"Eh, not really that angle, but maybe a smaller defense firm."

"A prosecutor contemplating defense work?" Kristoph asked, curious.

"I'm a trial lawyer above all else." Neil confirmed. "As long as I'm gettin' action in a Courtroom, I don't care which table I'm sittin' at."

"Not very noble, but honest." Kristoph laughed.

"Bein' DA might be hard, Skye is pretty young." Neil pointed out.

"Thirty-nine, correct?" Kristoph asked.

"Yeah. Governor Palaeno lobbied hard for her." The prosecutor explained. "After Manfred, anythang is an improvement."

"I figured she was an improvement." Kristoph almost smirked. "Isn't this car named for her?"

"That was Jake's idea."

"Oh?"

"They've been datin' ever since he got to this city." Neil said, proud of the fact.

"How painfully cliché." Kristoph dryly noted, adjusting his glasses.

"Come again?"

"The District Attorney and a police detective?" Kristoph half-laughed. "Very cliché."

"Well… it works." Neil shrugged. "I'm not one to judge in that regard."

"I suppose that's healthy."

"As healthy as you can get in this city." Neil shrugged. "This is a pretty fierce place. Look at our case. A gifted computer programmer totally loses it and attempts to kidnap his USC cheerleader girlfriend. God, I should have taken that ExxonMobil job."

"Litigation division?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I got that job offer as well." The blonde chuckled.

"We should've taken it."

"And never experience all this?" Kristoph laughed.

"Oh, how could I forget? It's a thrillin' life style. Though, I assume your suits are most of your budget."

"Yes, most." Kristoph nodded. "That and my place."

"Where at?"

"Townhouse. I luckily managed to negotiate with a less than smart realtor."

"Nice part of town?" Neil asked.

"Yes. I guess my overall appearance led him to believe I was a nice addition to the neighborhood." The blonde almost beamed.

"Very nice. I lassoed somethin' similar."

"I take it we share the bulk of our salaries on lodgin'?" Neil asked.

"Yeah." Kristoph nodded. "You have any crushin' law school debt?"

"No, I was on some scholarship thang. Named for John Marshall, I think."

"Mine was named for Barry Goldwater." Kristoph shrugged. "I'm told he was a big deal before I was born."

"More in Arizona than here." Neil explained. "God, you couldn't pay me to run for Office in this State." He ended with a shudder.

"Is it that bad?" Kristoph asked.

"Yes, because everyone here is kind of stupid. I don't mean IQ or education wise, but some just lack common sense." Neil laughed, wind causing his hair to flow and dance freely. "You know what I mean?"

"I think. Kristoph nodded. "Like how law school is all about theory, but being a lawyer is about application?"

"Exactly!" Neil said, half slapping the steering wheel. "If I want theory, I'd want to be an appellate court Judge."

"I always thought that sounded fun." Kristoph shrugged. "Especially Federal, Ninth or Second Circuit."

"The safely Liberal and Moderate circuits?" Neil asked, smirking.

"Well, I suppose."

"What, you don't want a spot on the Fifth or Seventh Circuits?"

"Let's see," Kristoph began, not aware how far out of his shell he was. "The Fifth handles all of Texas' Death Penalty cases and the Seventh is full of University of Chicago law school professors. Yeah, those places sound fun."

"But you do admit that a spot somewhere else might be fun?"

"Partially."

"That was committal."

"What? I'm not like you Texans. You all go for that bloodbath style of trying cases. I went to UCLA; I'm supposed to be lithe and elegant." The blonde explained.

"Like a ballerina?"

"Funny."

"Just a point. You can't say 'lithe and elegant' and not think of ballerinas." Neil theorized. "What was I gonna say, line dancin'?"

"I don't know what that is." Kristoph said, face somewhat blank.

"Didn't figure. It's a Texas thang."

"As is your accent." The German noted. "It seems to mutate with every sentence."

"Mutate?" Neil repeated.

"Yes. In Court it was more along the lines of Rhett Butler, now it's something out of _No Country For Old Men_."

"Book or movie?" Neil asked.

"Movie."

"Well, that's good. I'll be sure to avoid the guy with the air-powered cattle killer thingy." Neil joked.

"I liked both the book and the movie." Kristoph said. "Are they accurate depictions of life in West Texas?"

"Well, I grew up in Dallas, so that's kind of far off."

"Dallas is featured in the book and film."

"Okay, the portrayals of the business aspect of Dallas were pretty accurate. But keep in mind I wasn't alive in 1980." Neil said.

"1979 in the book."

"Objection, relevance?" Neil said, trying not to laugh.

"Goes to correct information." Kristoph replied

"God, do you spend your free time reading the trial procedure rules?"

"Studying goes hand in hand with winning." Kristoph justified.

"I prefer blind luck tempered with blind ambition." Neil confessed.

"I suppose that's a fun approach." The blonde conceded. "A bit haphazard for my taste."

"Haphazard." Neil repeated. "Big word for fun."

"Also means risky."

"Risky can also mean fun." Neil suggested. "You don't think an element of risk or danger can make a situation even more amusin'?"

"Risk is never a good thing for the defendant." Kristoph asserted. "Haven't you seen me tap dancing around your witnesses for the past two days?"

"I figured it was part of your strategy."

"Oh, like I could have done anything with Detective Starr. Is she really a Detective?" Kristoph asked, worried Neil had dressed up a supermodel for the witness stand.

"Yes, she's a real detective. You think I would falsify a witness and have said false witness commit perjury to win a case like this?" Neil asked back, chuckling slightly.

"No, I suppose the District Attorney only lets you perform stunts like that for murder cases." The blonde smartly commented.

"You're a quick learner." Neil said.

"Hey, this is the land of the LAPD. Anything goes."

"For the cops, yeah. But we have some sense of Honor." Neil defended.

"So, how many verdicts have been overturned since Manfred left Office?" The blonde asked.

"I'd answer, but were almost there. And anythang involving Manfred isn't good dinner conversation." Neil said, his smile all too sly.


	5. Waves

[To my readers: Sorry about the typos. I have a very simplistic, Cormac McCarthy type of writing style when it comes to fiction. For me, dialogue sentences end in periods, exclamation marks and questions marks. I do make typos and syntax errors because I largely spend my time writing wonderfully dull legal briefs and business articles. Plus, I do tend to get somewhat sloppy when it comes to my fics. Haha. As always, Read&Review!]

Kristoph was duly impressed with the Deputy District Attorney's fluency in Spanish. He was also impressed they had arrived at their eatery destination. Kristoph had been jokingly told to wait in the car, as his suit might trigger thoughts of his being a law enforcement officer of some manner. He could hear Neil placing the order from the car, but he quickly lost himself in the sounds of the beach. The sun was still high enough to color to waves as they softly crashed against the sand. He also smelled what he had been told marijuana smelled like.

"Foods here." Neil suddenly chimed in, breaking Kristoph from his screensaver view.

"Oh, thanks." Kristoph nodded, reaching for the large sack with very visible grease on the bottom.

"I'd take your vest off." The smiling prosecutor advised.

"Is it that messy?"

Neil laughed, nodding. "Hence I'm wearin' a ten year old shirt."

"You have an office to change in. I have a cubicle."

"That can be remedied by gettin' a better job."

"Please, point me in that direction," The young Public Defender laughed as he removed his vest, tie and his cufflinks and rolled up his shirtsleeves. "Anything is bound to have a better salary, and how much grease is in all this?"

"A lot." Neil laughed, shoving curly fries into his mouth. "Yours is the one in the yellow wrapper."

Kristoph nodded and fished the large edible object out of the bag. Unwrapping it, he found himself slightly shocked. "I'm sorry, but what is this?"

"It's a bacon double cheeseburger with ketchup, mayonnaise and two types of cheese."

"…Good Lord."

"You look like you weigh 140 pounds, you can handle the calories." Neil smirked, still more fries going into his mouth.

"150," Kristoph corrected. "And this is almost gluttonous."

"Gluttony doesn't count in The City of The Angels." Neil reasoned. He saw absolutely no problem in any of this. He had frequented this particular restaurant since he had first moved West.

"Interesting." Kristoph shrugged. He took a bite and could not help but smile.

"Score me another win." The prosecutor chuckled.

"Don't read too much into it, I don't eat that much fatty food." Kristoph defended. "And if you do, you must work out a lot."

"Real good metabolism." Neil said, lying.

"I see. Well, thanks for dinner." Kristoph smiled, his In-Court mien melting away slightly.

"Ah, you're welcome. You're actually tolerable for a defense attorney."

"I'm not as gung-ho as Ms. Fey." Kristoph chuckled. "I remember Judge Swallow being really low-key. I think he worked murder cases."

"Well, we're both a year or two away from those cases. Thank God."

"Oh, yes. Because our current caseload is so much better." Kristoph attempted to deadpan.

"I've got twenty-five open cases, highest one is a felony assault case. I'm gonna go beg Lana for an attempted murder or a manslaughter case. If not I'm gonna quit and become a male model." The Deputy District Attorney declared.

"Male model?"

"That, or move to Houston and get a job with a big oil company."

"What is it with Texans and oil?" Kristoph asked.

"Money, prestige," Neil explained, eyes a-light. "And most important, power. Can't say I wouldn't mind havin' a giant office on the top floor of a skyscraper with the title of CEO."

"Any other lofty goals?" Kristoph asked, shameless chewing away on the large cheeseburger.

"Big beach house, big Antebellum Manor in the South, preferably Virginia. And cars. Many, many cars." Neil, running his free hand along the steering wheel of his current automotive stallion.

"Simple enough goals." Kristoph admitted. they weren't far beyond his goals of a prestigious Department of Justice career. He at least admired the prosecutor's unabashed desire for a fancy, high paying job and the finer things in life.

"Well, least you're noble enough to want a Constitutional Law centric job. The Constitution is annoyin'." Neil jokingly groused.

"It got me A's in law school. And it annoyed my bow-tie wearing professors."

"So that stereotype is true." The prosecutor laughed. He had always heard the standard labels when it came to Upper Class West Coast intellectuals and was now happy to know they were accurate.

"Yes, it's pretty accurate. Though, my hair led people to believe I was a surfer or some such thing."

"Well, I am," Neil laughed. "Another thang Jake insisted on teachin' me."

"Sounds like your older brother is rather active."

"Especially with Lana."

"What is this, gossip time?"

"I never miss an opportunity for a good joke." Neil shrugged, taking a long drink of soda.

"Who said that was good?" Kristoph asked.

"Oh, there's that Courtroom wit." Neil cackled, lowering his eyebrows.

"It's never far away."

"I'm still gonna win, I have better lookin' witnesses." Neil asserted.

"Oh, I've noticed. You seemed at ease. Are you and Detective Starr close?" Kristoph asked.

"Nah, she's not my type."

"Too high maintenance?"

"Female." Neil drawled. Kristoph felt his eyes go slightly wide.

"Funny, I functioned under the impression gay Southerners were a myth." Kristoph tried to casually play off.

"Nah, we're real. We just don't come out until we're financially secure." Neil pointed out.

"Rich family?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Neil drawled, running a hand through his mess of hair. "Though, my trust fund is set up so I actually have to work."

"Is there some devilish contract somewhere?"

"Oh, yes." Neil almost sighed. "Lines and lines stressin' independence and work ethic. I think it's dear old dad's way of trying to shame me into a corporate job."

"So being a prosecutor makes you a rebel?" Kristoph asked.

"Sad, huh?"

"Just overly dramatic. Very Southern Gothic." Kristoph pointed out.

"More Tennessee Williams than Faulkner." Neil said, consuming another gulp of soda. Kristoph just looked impressed. The prosecutor merely winked. "Hey, I went to college at the University of Virginia. I do know my literature."

"Oh, I believe you, I do." Kristoph conceded. "What was your Major?"

"History. Specifically in the American South."

"Slavery and what else?" Kristoph innocently asked.

"Kiss my butt." Neil replied.

"So just slavery?"

"Somethin' like that." Neil smirked. "Least I've pulled your uppity West Coast personality into the world of fatty foods."

"I'm uppity?"

"Well, all Public Defenders are. It runs in you're collective gene pool."

"And you and your 100% win rate is what?" Kristoph asked, trying to hide his amusement with the tenor of the conversation.

"Consistency."

"You seem to exchange that with arrogance." The blonde noted.

"It's not braggin' if you're good at it." Neil said, face in such an expression and voice with laced with such innuendo that Kristoph found himself more than a little confused.

"I don't follow your logic, but okay." Kristoph laughed.

"This is LA, if you don't have a big ego you stand a chance of gettin' lost in the shuffle." Neil said.

"I wouldn't exactly mistake us for celebrities in the legal field." The blonde shrugged.

"You have to act like one to be one." Neil said, again with a wink. Kristoph, despite his finally honed blank-face skills, blushed. He wasn't sure how or when Neil had gotten into his head, but the Texan was there.

"So, I take it this is your biggest case so far?" Kristoph asked.

"Yeah, I guess." Neil sighed. "If only because it'll involve more than ten witnesses. Pretty sad."

"Are you kidding?" The blonde incredulously asked. "This is thrilling compared to drug dealers and spray paint."

"Least you're honest."

"I pride myself on it. It could be a problem if I ever join a firm that represents giant corporations and insurance companies." Kristoph answered.

"More rewardin' than handlin' cases for people tryin' to scam the system."

"Not a fan of personal injury lawyers?" The blonde asked.

"Nope. I don't see why a big company should have to pay because people are stupid." Neil nodded, seriousness belied by his messy hair and less than graceful eating habits.

"So, liability should cut both ways?"

"Course." Neil nodded, vigorous. "Like I said, people are stupid."

"You don't have much faith in humanity." Kristoph replied.

"Very little."

"Family trait?"

"Well, me bein' a rich elitist factors in. Law school helped. What about you?" Neil asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but look at you. Vested suits, white dress shirts, cufflinks, conservative colored ties. You're going for a certain image."

"Perhaps." Kristoph said, almost meekly and quickly taking a bite of cheeseburger.

"There's nothin' wrong with wantin' to rise above your current station in life." Neil nodded. "It's a rather noble thang."

"How so?" Kristoph asked.

"I don't know your family background, but you're willin' to work as a Public Defender to earn experience. I pulled your file; you graduated _Summa Cum Laude_ from UCLA. That's good enough for any job in this nation, and here you are, representin' Mr. Elg for tryin' to abduct his cheerleader girlfriend from a ladies shoe store. That takes some guts." Neil drawled, accent slipping and sliding around the well thought out compliment.

"Um… thanks." Kristoph blushed. He didn't know that anyone outside of his younger brother knew that much about him. "I suppose that's a pretty accurate picture."

"Oh, then I've got a trick that will really blow your mind." Neil smirked, pausing to enjoy his own burger, which appeared to have all manner of sauces on it. "Tell me if I'm right. Most of the clothes you own are suits, which are in turn pretty pricey. You keep your townhouse clean. As for furniture you have a bed, a nightstand, an office chair and a desk in the bedroom, a coach and coffee table in the living room. Each piece of furniture you own looks nicer than it really is. Odds are someone in your office wanted to unload it because they got tired of it. Thus, maybe not everythang matches."

"Did you send your older brother to stalk me and break into my living quarters?" Kristoph asked, basically nervous that Neil knew everything about him.

"No, it was easy. What I just described fits with any new to the game litigator. We're hardly unique."

"That makes me feel a little less stressed." Kristoph nodded. "And my slightly mismatched furniture looks just fine."

"Of course it does." Neil smirked. "How many pillows you sleep with?"

"What?"

"How many pillows?" Neil asked again, amused at the overall tenor of the conversation.

"Two." The blonde answered, assuming that was normal.

"Ah. Four for me." Neil shared.

"Four?"

"I roll around a lot. When I was in high school I played football; I blew my knee out Senior year, which caused me to start rollin' around in bed. I worked my way up to four."

"Sounds overly painful." Kristoph noted.

"Only on especially cold days, which are rare." Neil answered.

"But not in Virginia."

"Yeah, that was awkward. I should be glad I didn't go to Cornell." The prosecutor laughed.

"Is there any elite law school you didn't get into?" Kristoph asked.

"University of Chicago dinged me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they had met their quota." Neil almost laughed.

"Quota?" The blonde asked, intrigued.

"Dirty little secret; a lot of the fancier schools in the Northeast and Upper Midwest have a quota on how many out of region applications they take. Think of it as provincial segregation."

"That's… less than inspiring." Kristoph noted.

"Cuts the same way down in Dixie." Neil shrugged. "Not very many Pennsylvanians go to UVA."

"I'm very glad those days are over."

"You and me both. Now I get to focus on moderately amusing felony cases."

"You really are annoyed by Mr. Elg, aren't you?" Kristoph asked, hoping for an honest answer.

"Not annoyed so much as just bothered." Neil said, eyes drifting off to the waves rolling up the beach. "He and his girlfriend seem like, well, pretty put together people. And yet, here you and I sit at opposite tables."

"It is a bit simplistic to mass assign some overlapping form of guilt before the verdict." Kristoph shrewdly advised.

"You have to wonder if those two even really understand how serious this all might be."

"Mr. Elg is plenty aloof, but he seems aware." The blonde admitted, dancing around attorney-client privilege.

"Good. One less thang you can argue on appeal." The prosecutor laughed.

"You think I'd appeal this? I'm more than happy to move on." Kristoph admitted.

"So, you concede defeat?"

"I… uh, um… no." The blonde stammered.

"Of course not." Neil drawled.

"Merely stating that I don't want to appeal this post-verdict. Which is why I plan to win." Kristoph asserted.

"Your plan?"

"Asking me to violate privilege and shield? How very von Karma." Kristoph slyly retorted.

"Please, I don't like winnin' that much." Neil said, glancing at his watch. Time had gone much faster than he had felt. It was probably because this was a truly enjoyable conversation. "You need me to get you home?"

"Yes, probably. I have a lovely batch of paperwork sitting on my bed." The blonde almost happily sighed. Don't worry, I can be a decent guide."

"Good. I'll rewrap your food." Neil said, expertly re-wrapping both of the burgers. "Don't worry, they reheat fine."

"Good to know." Kristoph nodded as he scribbled directions on a napkin.

"You're very efficient." Neil again complimented.

"It's a UCLA proclivity."

"I'm sure." Neil said, taking the napkin. With a short flick of his wrist, the Trans Am roared back to life and Kristoph was again pleasantly lost in the sounds of the engine. True to form, the Deputy District Attorney again showed no real respect for the traffic laws.

The blonde was more than a little amused at Neil's shifting attention between driving and deciphering the directions on the napkin. Kristoph had thought his handwriting was pretty good, but was having second thoughts as he watched Neil squint. With a mental shrug, he reasoned that the prosecutor would eventually find his way to the right location.

Their conversation as the car weaved through the streets bordered on the inane. It was mainly about Neil's pretty impressive high school football career and Kristoph's overbearing professors in law school.

Having finally gotten his angles about him, Neil found the townhouse rather quickly. "This it?" He asked. Kristoph nodded.

"Yes." Kristoph nodded. "I believe my briefcase is in the trunk."

"That it is." Neil said, turning the car off and exiting for the trunk. "So, when did Diego give you his old briefcase?"

"A few days after I graduated. He keeps trying to get me to come work for him."

"And you say no?"

"Yes." Kristoph nodded. "I'm not a big fan of lights and cameras."

"Well, that is how Diego operates." Neil said, fetching the briefcase. Handing it off to the grateful blonde along with the leftovers, he assumed the body language that normally prefaced a hug.

He was pleasantly bemused when the blonde stiffened slightly and extended his hand. With a thoroughly happy smirk, Neil extended his own and gave a firm shake.

"Thanks for dinner, Counselor." Kristoph said, smiling.

"Any time." Neil winked.

With that, Kristoph nodded, turned and made his way to the front door.

"Later, buddy!" Neil called out, waving. Kristoph paused and turned, finding that all he could do was smile and wave back, even though he wasn't all that far away.


End file.
